MOSONYI: Hungarian Music / New Year Present

DEVREESE: Benvenuta / L' Oeuvre au Noir / Un Soir, un Train

WALDTEUFEL: The Best of Emile Waldteufel, Vol. 9

Family resemblances abound in the work of father and son God fried and Frederic Devreese, although it is the younger composer who exhibits the greater talent—at least on this showing. Godfried (18931972) was born in Courtal, Belgium, won first prize in Cesar Thomson's violin class and studied composition and orchestration with Paul Gilson. Both he and his father-in-law played in Mengelberg's Concertgebouw Orchestra, while Godfried then went on to become Principal of the Malines Conservatory in Belgium (in succession to August De Boeck). He was a musical conservative whose style oscillates between fully-blown late romanticism (Schmidt, Bax, d'Indy and others) and advanced impressionism (later Debussy and the Stravinsky of The Firebird and Petrushka). TombelCne deals with cult happenings on the island of the same name, where Druids, a warrior chief and a young priestess prompt a whole range of colouristic effects which, although not without interest, slip from the memory with alarming ease.

We are told that Devreese was a good string player, and his First Violin Concerto certainly has its moments, including a tender Andante moderato and a rumbustious finale. However, the best music on the disc is the concise Cello Concerto, originally scored for "fifteen wind instruments, celesta, harp, six five-string double-basses and variously tuned side-drums", but skilfully reorchestrated by Frederic (b.1929) for flutes, piccolo, oboe, two clarinets, two French horns, harp and strings. It's here that one notices the younger composer's more engaging tonal palette, a virtue that lends itself to film music, which is Frederic's main claim to fame (although he has also produced "operas, orchestral works, ballets, music for plays and television dramas [and] chamber music").

The present selection features four scores that were composed for various films by Belgium's foremost director, Andre Delvaux, and range in style from the gently nostalgic "Reve" that opens Benvenuta, through the boisterous "Danse de l'auberge" (Un soir, on train), to the Bachian "Prelude" (Belle) and a fully-fledged symphonic suite based on L'oeuvre au noir. The music is unfailingly tuneful, suggestive and vividly orchestrated, and both these well-recorded selections are given highly proficient performances.

As to placing this music in the scheme of things, I would say that Godfried was a gifted 'secondrater' and Frederic rather more than that, at least in the context of film music. It's fairly palatable stuff that will appeal largely to collectors interested in unusual musical byways, with the film music having the wider potential appeal.

-- Robert Cowan, Gramophone [11/1994]

MOSONYI: 3 Piano Pieces, Op. 2 / 2 Pearls / Puszta Life

MOSONYI: Piano Music for Four Hands

STRAUSS, Josef: Edition - Vol. 6

WALDTEUFEL: The Best of Emile Waldteufel, Vol. 6

WALDTEUFEL: The Best of Emile Waldteufel, Vol. 7

Five years before Edward German's comic opera Merrie England, this Sullivan ballet score was staged at the Alhambra Theatre as part of the celebrations of Queen Victoria's Diamond Jubilee. The original full score appears not to have survived. However, a complete piano reduction was published, along with an orchestral suite, and in addition Sullivan reused earlier material such as his Imperial March and music from his early ballet L'ile enchant& (already recorded on Marco Polo, 6/93). From all these sources Roderick Spencer has made this very convincing re-creation of the full score.

And very worthwhile it proves too. As the notes explain, British ballet in those days was not classical ballet as we know it today but mime-drama. Spectacle was what it was all about, and Sullivan rose to the occasion admirably. There are some most attractive passages - not only in the recycled material but also, for instance, the Solo Variation for the May Queen and perhaps above all the Waltz of Wood Nymphs, which would well repay taking over into the light music repertory. In addition Sullivan skilfully weaves in various patriotic British melodies as well as traditional dances such as a morris dance and a sailors' hornpipe. Such pastiche is the sort of thing that Sullivan did particularly well, and Andrew Penny and the RTE Sinfonietta do the whole score proud. This is as rewarding as any of the four CDs of Sullivan without Gilbert that Marco Polo have now issued.

-- Gramophone [6/1996]

SUPPE: Overtures, Vol. 3

GLIERE: Bronze Horseman / Shakh-Senem / Gyul'sara

Mihály Mosonyi was a discovery for me—a contemporary of Liszt with the sensibility of Bartók; his piano études capture the essence of Hungarian élan without resorting to Lisztian bombast.

-- David Johnson, FANFARE [Want List, 1994]


Known in this country only from a recording of his piano concerto issued on a Candide LP two dozen years ago (it has since been transferred to CD), Mihály Mosonyi (1815-70) has never been entirely neglected by his fellow Hungarians. The annotator of these two Marco Polo discs, Dezö Legány, calls him “the third most important Hungarian composer of the nineteenth century,“ which may seem to be damning him with faint praise, except that one of the two more important of his countrymen was Franz Liszt. (The other, Ferenc Erkel, also has had a hard time establishing a major reputation outside the confines of Hungary, largely because his specialty was opera in the Magyar tongue, which doesn't travel well.) Mosonyi's posthumous reputation, such as it is, has been sustained by the many flattering things that Liszt said about him, both publicly and in letters to friends. Legány fails to pursue the Liszt connection in his sober, helpful, but heavily musicological notes. The annotator of the old Candide disc did a better job of quoting Liszt on Mosonyi. Among that flamboyant master's comments is this one: “The death of Mosonyi puts our hearts in mourning. It makes us sorrow also for the music of Hungary, of which Mosonyi was one of the noblest, most valiant and praiseworthy representatives.“ Praise came rather too cheaply for Liszt, but he followed it with the sincerest form of flattery, a noble piano elegy (“Mosonyi's Grablied“) in memory of his confrère, who had died too soon at the age of fifty-five. Two years before Mosonyi's death, Liszt had honored him with a transcription from one of his operas (he wrote two). After listening to these two albums—especially the one featuring solo piano music, which I am happy to note is styled “Volume 1“—I think hat Liszt was, indeed, on to a very good thing.

Mosonyi's name at birth, and for all but the last twelve years of his life, was Michael Brand (“Brandt“ according to Baker's Dictionary). It was only in 1858 that he Magyarized his first name and derived a new last name from Moson, the county in which he was born. With his new name he took on a new musical personality. His music had been heavily indebted to the Vienna Classicists (he spent some years as a private tutor in that city). After 1858 it took on a strongly Hungarian accent and at the same time acquired a slimmed-down, direct manner, shorn of much Romantic baggage—a manner that appeals to twentieth-century ears. Both the Brand and the Mosonyi aspects of this little-known composer are in evidence on these discs, the former on the orchestral one, the latter on the one devoted to his solo piano music.

Hungarian Children's World is not designed for children, unless their technique is fully developed. Though this set of twelve genre pieces is not in the virtuoso category, the technical demands call for a pianist of professional capability. The individual numbers vary from forty-eight seconds to five minutes and fifty seconds in length. Each has a programmatic title. “The Little Gypsy Girl“ is a three-tempo czárdás (Adagio-Allegro-Andante) “Lullaby“ ends on an unresolved suspension. “The Little Piper,“ with its elaborate melismas, seems more suitable to a cimbalom than a piano. “Children's Song“ is pure Robert Schumann at first, but launches startlingly into the verbunkos manner in its midsection. “The Story Man“ has several stories to tell: the piece shifts five times between Maestoso and Allegretto, each time bringing in a different set of themes. The last number, “Búcsú“ in Hungarian, is translated a “Kirchweih“ (“Church Ceremony“) in German, and a “Farewell Festival“ in English; whatever “Búcsú“ means, it makes a satisfactorily lively finale to a very attractive set of Kinderszenen.

Studies for Piano, for Development in the Performance of Hungarian Music is the wordy title of the second set of piano works on the disc. These are genuine progressive studies, starting with the simplest exercises and eventually reaching considerable technical complexity. Bartók followed the same procedure in his far more ambitious Mikrokosmos, which may well have borrowed some of its procedures from Mosonyi's set. (Bartók published several letters of Liszt to Mosonyi in the Musical Quarterly in 1921; he was well aware of the work of both men.) There are twenty pieces in this collection. They have less overt programs than the Hungarian Children's World, mostly settling for an adjective to establish mood, followed by the tempo (“Sadly: Adagio,“ “Joyfully: Vivace“). The Hungarian accent is more persistent here, discernible, often subtly, in all twenty pieces. (No. 25 piques my curiosity. It is called “In the style of Károly Fátyol,“ whose dates— obviously added by an editor, since he died after Mosonyi—are given as “1830-1888.“ I suspect he may have been a Gypsy musician. Can any of the readership enlighten me?)

As in Mikrokosmos, the early numbers, intended for beginners, tend to bore grown-ups (and children, too, for that matter). As more demands are placed upon the executant (from around No. 8 on) the listener's ear begins to prick up, and by the end of the series one is genuinely impressed by the melodic distinction, the clean, almost Poulenic-ish line, and the surprisingly modern approach of these pieces. There is not a trace of Romantic sensibility or bloat in them. Virtuosity for its own sake is eschewed throughout, in favor of a deep Hungarian expressivity. But Mosonyi know how to ignite the fireworks when he want to—as in No. 16, where the fingers fly in true Lisztian manner, and in the concluding study, a splendid and subtle Hungarian Rhapsody. Piano teachers, even if they are not Hungarian, would do well to introduce this toothsome set of études to their pupils.

István Kassai, thirty-five years of age, won first prize in the International Debussy Piano Competition around a decade ago. He plays Mosonyi like the aristocrat of the keyboard he obviously is. Engineer Endre Radany achieve a vividly lifelike reproduction of Kassai's touch and tone.

-- David Johnson, FANFARE [11/1994]

LYATOSHYNSKY: Symphony No. 1 / 'Grazhyna', Op. 58

Lajtha: Capriccio